


Under Burning Skies

by AppleGrenade



Category: The Lone Ranger (2013), The Lone Ranger - All Media Types
Genre: Did I mention PWP?, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleGrenade/pseuds/AppleGrenade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the duo saved the day (again), nature was unbalanced (still), there’s something very wrong with Silver (nothing new), and John and Tonto had some wild, wild sex (um, what?).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Burning Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: The entire movie, which nobody but me and 16 other people in the whole entire world fucking saw despite its brilliant awesomeness.
> 
> Disclaimer: The Lone Ranger belongs to its owners. I desperately wish I own Armie Hammer.
> 
> Notes: This is a PWP. Don’t ask me why I wrote this; I am just full of bad ideas.

 

\-----

John didn't expect to spend Wednesday evening having Tonto pounding vigorously between his widespread legs.

The thought didn't even occur to him as they left town earlier that noon, having rescued the world from yet another unscrupulous train baron and his disfigured sidekick. No, really; is there a factory or farm somewhere that’s producing or breeding these characters? By John’s count this is the sixth- nay, **seventh** one he and his Indian comrade had had to face. It wasn’t unlawful encroachment into Indian Territory this time, or getting people evicted from their lands via illegal, malicious means, but something even more sinister: human trafficking for illegal slave auctions. The amount of explosions he and Tonto employed lit up the pre-dawn sky so brightly the roosters crowed early, thinking the sun had risen.

By the time they finished unleashing the full weight of their brand of justice upon the transgressors, they had freed enough Blacks to found a small settlement.

At least this time the sidekick wasn’t also cannibalistic. Oh yes, nature still remained unbalanced as evidenced by the colonies of carnivorous rabbits still showing up in the dessert. One time, they even threatened to devour Silver and Scout whole when John and Tonto didn’t immediately share their lunch.

Anyway… They just finished their smoked bison dinner. Tonto kept feeding the very dead crow and John had to tell him **yet again** to stop feeding the very dead crow please because it’s becoming really unnerving. Tonto’s answer to that request was littered with the usual sarcasm and jabs at John’s manliness (which in John’s opinion was totally uncalled for since he did ask **very politely** ). Twenty minutes, four digs at Tonto’s fake Comanche wisdom, and an animalistic growl later, John ended up shirtless, then pants-less, then sprawled on his back with Tonto’s weight pressed firmly over him.

Then the kissing and nibbling and licking began. His jaw (clean-shaven because John Reid maintained a strict grooming standard whether he had a roof over his head or an untamed southern sky), his neck (which crimsoned frenziedly because his skin never got tanned enough to conceal anything more than a shy blush), his earlobes (which Tonto gleefully discovered made John writhed uncomfortably) and nipples (which Tonto **very** gleefully discovered made John tensely arch his back and let out breathy whimpers and keening moans).

He fought Tonto the first time they did this, the second time too. The third time, he struggled at the beginning but it was because they were holed up in a room of Red’s instead of somewhere far from the edge of town, somewhere they could be discreet. Because John Reid was noisier than a pack of wolves crying to the blue corn moon when he’s got another man’s tongue lapping teasingly against the inside of his thighs, or teeth gnawing possessively at the skin of his nape, or moist palm rubbing against his hardness, or warm flesh thrusting insistently into him.

John didn’t think he’d like it, never thought he’d like it, didn’t **want** to like it. But Lord, the feel of Tonto’s painted lips ghosting over the hollow at the base of his throat, those roughened fingertips grasping his hips tightly, restrictively, purposefully ceasing all manner of activity that mattered…

“Ah- Tonto…!” John made an impressive attempt to move beneath those restraining hands. Impressive, but futile. “What are you doing?!”

“Hush, Kemosabe,” said Tonto in a mock-soothing tone, “I want this to last. It’s been many days.”

John gave a very audible groan of protest before he drew a frustrated breath through tightly-gritted teeth. “Tonto, if you don't move **this instant** …”

A deep laugh answered his threat as Tonto gave a single, swift thrust before withdrawing and falling still again. The Comanche never kept it a secret, how he greatly enjoyed being physically stronger. “You not in any position to threaten, Kemosabe.” Tonto leaned forward, sliding his palms over John’s lean body to rest on his chest, a thumb on each nipple. John's neck glistened with sweat, the dessert’s evening breeze doing nothing to cool his heated skin. Tonto licked him there, starting from the juncture where his shoulder and neck met then languidly moving upward until his breath teased John’s lust-bitten ear. “But begging. Now **that** got you places before...”

“Don't do this...”

All John got in response was Tonto’s thumbs playfully teasing his hardened nipples, pressing and tracing circular patterns on the pinked nubs. “Close, but not quite.”

The words finally came a few tense moments later, “Please.” John shifted, trembling, desperation heavy in his voice, “Please don’t stop.”

He felt Tonto’s devious grin buried against his cheek. “Good boy,” was reassuringly whispered into his ear and he was gasping for air in anticipation. Tonto then drew up again, unhurriedly, then slowly regained the fierce rhythm they'd established earlier.

John bit his lower lip to stifle a wrecked cry at Tonto' first thrust back in. Tonto traced a thumb across his lips, coaxing his mouth to open. John knew that Tonto wanted to hear the sounds of his pleasure, certainly relishing the fact that he was the cause of John’s indignation.

Not that he could ever succeed to deny Tonto. His lips parted obediently under those questing fingers, the hitched gasps and pants filling the night sky once more. Tonto’s thumb that had momentarily rested on his lower lip pressed demandingly against the slight opening and John opened his mouth further, drew in the finger and hungrily sucked on it, desire mounting as his body continued to be rocked back and forth with each violent thrust.

Then Tonto shifted, leaned forward to brace himself on his right hand beside John's head. His left hand swiftly grabbed John's right leg and hoisted it over his shoulder. The other leg followed, and the new position had John bent nearly double. His tense fingers desperately gripped Tonto’s arms that now framed either side of his head.

With only a low growl as a warning, Tonto resumed shoving into him in a brutal pace. John could barely contain the ecstasy-laden screams and raw pleas that escaped his throat. Tonto leaned forward once more and captured his reddened lips, plunging his tongue in as his manhood plundered him down there. John’s cries grew frantic, fingernails scratched at Tonto’s upper arms as his legs on Tonto’s shoulders tensed, toes curling. He sucked on Tonto’s tongue greedily as he came with a strangled shout.

Tonto thrust in and out a few more times before his own climax got ripped from him, John shoved back against him and tightened further as he came deep within the other.

The screams slowly subsided into quiet moans that grew into deep gasps of much-needed air by the time Tonto broke their kiss.

When John was finally able to open his eyes, the sight of Tonto still propped up over him swam into his gradually-clearing vision. The Indian stared at him with a look that John still could not categorize with certainty – if he could hazard one guess then it’d be wonderment, like a young native boy ensnared with a Sears Roebuck pocket watch.

But John could only entertain the thought for a few seconds before he was forcefully pushed back on the dirt. Tonto once again kissed him deeply; it was unfortunate that they had to part for air as nature intended. Tonto sunk onto the ground and settled beside him as John's eyes drifted close. And that’s when they saw it: Silver sitting on the ground not five feet away looking right at them, head slightly tilted to the side. They don’t often agree on things but he and Tonto would swear up and down the river that there was a most lecherous smirk plastered across the animal’s lips.

“Something very definitely **still** wrong with that horse.”

 

\-----

FINIS

**Author's Note:**

> For the prequels, kindly check out the series titled [Fire Burns Below](http://archiveofourown.org/series/54200).


End file.
